Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner

by Jack Caldwell

  Mr. Bennet stood white-face and mortified. “I will not take your money. I am not an innkeeper.”

  “Then you should not act like one. Bartholomew, draft a note for the household expenses.”

  Mr. Bennet gasped. “You have been receiving figures from Hill, too?”

  Darcy was relentless. “Bartholomew, do you have that note?”

  The paper appeared before Darcy, who signed it and instructed it be given to Mr. Bennet. Within moments, a chastened Thomas Bennet stood before Fitzwilliam Darcy with two bank notes in one hand and a stack of bills in the other. Had Darcy not been so angry, he might have found the sight somewhat amusing.

  “You shame me, sir,” Bennet managed.

  “You shame yourself, Mr. Bennet.”

  The older man’s lip trembled as he glanced at the notes. “May I sit?”

  His anger slackened somewhat, Darcy nodded. Mr. Bennet half-fell into a chair, his face red again, but this time with embarrassment. “I owe you an apology. I have not been as gracious a host as I should. Indeed, I have not been any proper host to you at all. I have not taken the time to further our acquaintance. I suppose I thought you to be like many other young men from Town, inconsiderate and only interested in their own amusements.” He glanced at the notes again. “It seems I was wrong — very wrong, indeed.”

  “Did my conversation with you about Wickham prove nothing?”

  Bennet shrugged. “Only that Wickham was your enemy. I should have given it greater consideration.”

  Darcy was perplexed. “What have I done to deserve such disapprobation?”

  Bennet looked up, disbelief clear on his face. “Mr. Darcy, really! Have you no recollection of your behavior prior to your accident?”

  “How dare you question Mr. Darcy!” cried loyal Bartholomew, but Darcy silenced him with a gesture.

  “Pray continue, Mr. Bennet.”

  For the next few minutes, the gentleman cataloged all of Darcy’s sins against the people of Hertfordshire — his pride, his reserve, and his selfish disdain of the feelings of others. Darcy’s face was placid, but internally, his emotions were roiling. He had heard it all before from the lips of his beloved Elizabeth. While he did not doubt her dislike of his previous behavior, he was shocked that all of Meryton seemed to share her opinion. He began to wonder whether they still felt that way. He also began to think that, while he had improved Elizabeth’s opinion — or at least he thought he had — it might be for naught if all her friends thought him an arse.

  By the end of his dissertation, Mr. Bennet had recovered some of his old sang-froid. “It seems, sir, you show two faces to the world. That you choose to do so must inure you to misunderstandings of your character, I should think.”

  Darcy was displeased to hear that, but he could not dispute it. Was being more open the price to win Elizabeth? He sighed. “Well, I trust you have a better understanding of my character now, sir.”

  “These notes — ”

  “Belong to you.” Darcy added with a small smile, “Do with them what you will. If you will allow a change of subject, I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you.”

  “Indeed?” Bennet frowned.

  Darcy reached over for the express he had received. “This involves one of your servants, Sally.”

  “Sally? What about Sally?”

  “Read this and you will see. By the way, we shall need to talk to her mother directly.”

  Bennet took the message. “It sounds as though you are planning to marry the girl,” he quipped.

  “Hardly.”

  * * *

  It took another two hours for Sally’s mother to be transported to Longbourn and to hold a meeting with her, Sally, Darcy, and Mr. Bennet in that gentleman’s book room. It is not the purpose of this work to detail in full the manner by which both maid and mother chose to express their surprise, delight, and acceptance of the offer made to them, save that Sally’s mother, in a fit of gratitude, tears streaming down her face, knelt beside Darcy’s chair, grasped his hand and kissed it.

  “Thank you, thank you, m’lord!” the old woman cried. “You are the saving of us all! God bless you!”

  Darcy tried unsuccessfully to retrieve his captured digits. “You are . . . very welcome. Madam, if you please!” Gentle tugging did not serve, and the woman kissed his hand again.

  Finally, Sally, her eyes wet and shining with esteem and awe, was able to disengage her mother from further assault on Darcy’s person. “You’re as good a man as ever lived, sir,” said she, “an’ you’ll be in our prayers every Sunday, won’t he, Mum?”

  The old woman was beyond words, so it was left to Sally to assure Darcy and Mr. Bennet that they would be ready to leave for their new home in two days. She thanked the gentlemen again, gave the injured man one last longing look, and guided her nearly hysterical mother out of the book room.

  Mr. Bennet was vastly amused by the whole exercise. “I do believe you have won admirers for life, Mr. Darcy! I would be surprised if Sally named her first boy anything other than — what is your Christian name again?”

  Darcy scowled at Mr. Bennet. “It was my intention to present this offer to Sally and her mother as a joint effort. I thought we had agreed to that. What possessed you to lay the whole thing at my door?”

  Bennet shrugged. “It was merely the truth, my dear sir — your cousin, your letter-writing, and your men helping them pack. I simply provided the deserving poor for your benevolence.”

  Darcy rolled his eyes. At least he knew where Elizabeth learned impertinent behavior! As it was one of the lady’s most endearing characteristics, he should have been more tolerant of jibes from her father, but Darcy found the man annoying. He supposed that teasing from a cranky old man was not as welcome as it was from a beautiful young woman possessing a light and pleasing form, sparkling eyes, and lush lips.

  Mr. Bennet continued in a more serious manner. “I trust your cousin is an honorable man.”

  Darcy did not take offense. “Viscount Fitzwilliam is . . . eccentric, that is true, but I have known him all my life, and I tell you that he will not mistreat Sally or her family. The viscountess can be demanding, but not out of the common way. If Sally and her family work hard, they will be treated well and their future will be secure. I would not have suggested this if I thought otherwise.”

  “I am sure you would have not. But to report to London the day after tomorrow? That is abrupt.”

  Darcy had to agree that it was. “Horace can be impulsive. He thinks about things for a long while to the point of indecisiveness, but once he makes up his mind, he wants everything done yesterday. He and Lady Eugenie leave for Argyle Manor in Derbyshire in a few days, and Horace wishes his new servants to accompany them.”

  “It was very generous of you to offer your people to help the family pack their belongings.”

  Darcy did not respond, embarrassed at the praise. Instead, he said, “That reminds me. I must send an express to Darcy House in London to have them brought here by tomorrow, as well as a nurse to replace Sally. May I use your desk?”

  “Certainly.” Mr. Bennet wheeled Darcy into position and provided a sheet of paper. “While you are writing, I shall have Hill send for a rider.”

  Darcy bent to his writing. “I shall reimburse you, of course.”

  “No, you shall not!” Darcy looked up at the now-determined Bennet. “You have done everything to help one of my servants, a woman who means nothing to you. I am ashamed to think how much you have done and will do. I have not treated you well, and yet you have been kind and generous to all my family. You are even going to replace one my servants with one of yours at your own expense.”

  “Mr. Bennet, it is perfectly reasonable that I have a nurse brought here to help me while you look for a replacement for Sally.”

  “Reasonable for you, perhaps, but how many others would do the same? You teach me my duty.” Bennet glanced at the two bank notes lying on the desk. “I know now who the true gentleman is in this
room. Give me leave to pay for an express, for God’s sake. It is the least I can do.”

  “As you wish.” Darcy returned to his note.

  “Why do you do it?”

  Darcy glanced up. “I beg your pardon?”

  Mr. Bennet’s voice was not challenging, but wistful. “Why are you helping Sally? Why have you provided diversions for my daughters? I have a right to know.”

  Darcy could hardly admit his true motivation. He struggled. “Because I can.”

  “And this is all the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting? Come, come, sir. There is more to this than your financial circumstances!”

  “Mr. Bennet, I assure you — ”

  “Are you attempting to earn the admiration of my daughters? If so, I must tell you that you have succeeded marvelously. Even Elizabeth, who so hated you before, has fallen under your charms. It then falls to me to inquire about your intentions.”

  “Mr. Bennet, I — ” Darcy bit off his next words, returned the pen to the inkwell, and stared out of the window. How to answer? Darcy started carefully. “My intentions in matters to which you allude have always been honorable. Or, I should say, will always be honorable, as I have never . . . sought an alliance before.”

  “But you are considering one.”

  Darcy frowned. “I cannot speak to that as — Forgive me, sir, but this is new to me. I cannot speak as I have not acquired the affections of any young lady.”

  There was a pause. “It is Elizabeth, is it not?” Bennet’s voice was uneven. At Darcy’s transparent look, the older man chuckled. “Do not be so shocked that I have discovered your little secret, young man. Even without all you did for her in the matter with Mr. Collins, there is the fact that she is the gem of this house, and you, as a man of discriminating taste, must know her worth. You speak with her as I do, with respect for her wit and intelligence, and not as a besotted youth interested only in her physical charms. You are a man used to the best in everything I daresay, and Elizabeth is the best Hertfordshire can offer. It is logical.”

  A red-faced Darcy, knowing he had been found out, could only admit, “I consider your daughter as one of the handsomest and most remarkable women of my acquaintance. I suppose I am overdue in requesting permission for a courtship, but I cannot while I am restricted to this wheel-chair. It is just as well; it is only of late that I suspect Miss Elizabeth’s opinion of me might be . . . positive.”

  “Might be?” laughed Mr. Bennet. “Well, you will certainly win her gratitude with gestures like helping Sally.”

  “No!” cried Darcy. “You must not tell her!”

  “What? Why on earth not?”

  “You must understand. I would not have your daughter accept me out of gratitude.”

  “What is wrong with gratitude?”

  Darcy looked out the window again. “My own excellent parents enjoyed a remarkable marriage. There was totality and equality in esteem, admiration, and affection, each for the other. They were always of one mind. I long for that in my own marriage — one built on the foundation of mutual affection and respect, not on something as transitory as gratitude.”

  “Good Lord,” Bennet breathed. “I always desired that Lizzy marry a gentleman worthy of her, and I am coming to the opinion that you are that man.” He bit his lip. “I shall do as you wish, though let me advise you to think better of it. Lizzy is not one to like secrets.”

  How could Darcy admit to him that he must have her love first? “I will tell her when I deem the time right.”

  Bennet chuckled. “Oh, my, there will be some pretty scenes in your Pemberley in the future, I can tell! Well, my boy, good luck. If Lizzy accepts a courtship, you have my permission. And I will keep quiet about this little matter.”

  “Thank you, sir. Your daughter is a very special lady. I would consider it a great honor if she would even consider my suit.”

  Bennet choked a little. “Yes . . . well, you have an express to write, and I must acquire a rider if that letter is to get to Town tonight.” He opened the door. “Hill! Oh, Hill! A moment, please!”

  The housekeeper soon received her orders, and the gentlemen, tasks completed, were enjoying a brandy when the book room door opened. But it was not to announce the arrival of the express rider.

  “Mr. Bennet, may I have a word with you, sir?” cried a beaming Charles Bingley. “Oh, my apologies, Darcy, but I must speak to Mr. Bennet instantly on a subject of great importance! One that will forever affect the happiness of me and Miss Bennet!”

  Mr. Bennet and Darcy shared a look.

  “About time!” they said in unison.

  Chapter 16

  EARLIER THAT DAY, THE Bennet ladies descended upon Netherfield en mass for the first time since Jane’s illness, this time accompanied by Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley. The Bingley siblings, the Hursts, and Colonel Fitzwilliam received them inside the door, for it was too cold to do so on the porch. While all the visitors were greeted properly, Mr. Bingley’s attentions were fixed upon Jane, while Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst attempted to monopolize Miss Darcy. Mrs. Bennet, her remaining daughters, and Mrs. Annesley had to make do with Colonel Fitzwilliam’s amusing banter.

  After a few minutes, Miss Bingley seemed to recall her duties as hostess, and Elizabeth wondered whether it was the result of a pointed remark by the colonel about his mother, the countess. Elizabeth had to restrain her laughter watching Miss Bingley endeavor to keep her composure as Mrs. Bennet droned on about how lovely a house Netherfield was and how all that was required for perfection was the touch of a proper mistress. Her deliberate look at her distracted eldest daughter, deep in conversation with Mr. Bingley, left no doubt as to her meaning. Miss Bingley gritted her teeth and rose, offering the assembled a tour of the house.

  Thus was spent the next hour: Caroline expounded upon the beauties and deficiencies of Netherfield with Mrs. Hurst offering her pointed commentary. Strangely, Elizabeth began to have a grudging admiration for the unmarried member of the Superior Sisters. The condescending woman clearly thought herself above her company — except for Georgiana, whom she treated as an equal.

  Nevertheless, Elizabeth had to admit that Caroline had elegance; she carried herself well, and her dress was immaculate. The lady knew the history of the house and was honest about its shortcomings. What particularly caught Elizabeth’s attention was that Caroline was more erudite than Mrs. Hurst, whose ignorant simpering made even her sister wince. Lastly, Caroline withstood the inane suggestions of Mrs. Bennet to an extraordinary degree. More than once, Elizabeth thought of clasping a hand over her mother’s mouth before yet another mortifying statement could be uttered.

  Elizabeth was thankful for the surprising participation of Colonel Fitzwilliam, for the gentleman volunteered to accompany the tour rather than flee to the billiards room with Mr. Hurst. The colonel’s easy conversation and witty comments defused more than one tense situation, particularly when Caroline’s patience was brought to the breaking point by either Mrs. Bennet or Mrs. Hurst. There was no help to be had from Mr. Bingley; he either was engrossed with Jane or chose to ignore the unpleasantness.

  A light luncheon was served, followed by performances on the pianoforte. Georgiana only agreed to play after cajoling from the colonel and an offer to turn the pages by Elizabeth. Her performance was flawless and received much praise from those assembled. Mrs. Annesley then proved her abilities. Even Mary acquitted herself with respect. Her flushed cheeks, a result of the first genuine praise she had ever received, touched Elizabeth’s heart. Mrs. Hurst played next, and it was then Elizabeth’s turn. She performed without major errors and escaped any malicious remarks from Miss Bingley.

  It was now time for the hostess to play as Jane, Kitty, and Lydia had never learnt, and Caroline dove into a complicated piece from Mozart. It was lengthy and compelling, and she played it well. Elizabeth listened attentively, and while she was impressed with the lady’s skill, she thought something was missing from the performance. There seemed a lack of sensib
ility, of feeling, from the piece. As Mozart was one of Elizabeth’s favorite composers, she knew his work should be performed with great emotion. Caroline apparently chose not to or was incapable of doing so.

  So engrossed was she in her analysis of Caroline’s performance that Elizabeth did not realize the audience had decreased until Lydia tapped her arm. With a mischievous glint in her eye, her sister gestured to the chairs that had been occupied by Jane and Mr. Bingley. They were now conspicuously empty. Elizabeth’s raised eyebrow brought forth a giggle from Lydia.

  They were not the only ones to notice the absence of certain members of their party. “I say,” remarked Mrs. Hurst, “where is Miss Bennet? Has she taken ill again? And where is Charles?”

  Her voice carried over Caroline’s music, and the performer stopped abruptly. “What did you say, Louisa?” she asked as her eyes darted to that now-empty part of the room.

  All stared at the vacant chairs. Mrs. Bennet, not slow in such matters, grasped the implication of the situation immediately and acted in a manner consistent with her matchmaking character.

  “Oh, how wonderful! I am sure there is some good mischief about, but I shall not say more. No, no, not a word from me! These young lovers must have their way. Play on, Miss Bingley, play on! We are not wanted anywhere else, of that you may be certain!”

  “No!” exclaimed Caroline as she jumped up from the bench. “We . . . we should go! Miss Bennet may have met with misfortune, and — ”

  “Miss Bingley, pray calm yourself.” The colonel’s voice was gentle. “If your brother is with Miss Bennet, she is in good hands.”